Hiding in Hawk's Creek by Brenda Chapman

Author:Brenda Chapman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2006-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Kerry and her mom picked me up Tuesday afternoon to go into town for the dance. Kerry was excited that I was going to sleep over, and she talked non-stop all the way into town until we pulled into their driveway. Then, she said, “Here we are, Jen. The Randall estate!”

Actually, they did have a pretty big house. It was painted a buttery colour and had green shutters. A circular driveway led to a three-car garage. Kerry hopped out of the car and led me into the house and upstairs to her bedroom. She had a canopy bed and white furniture with pink hearts painted all over it. Her window looked out over the front yard. The curtains were also white and ruffled, tied back with sashes. Pictures of Kerry in different beauty contests and dance costumes filled a bulletin board over her desk. Above the bulletin board was a banner that said, “Winning is Everything.” Kerry spun around the room and flopped onto her bed. I sat down beside her.

“We’re going to meet Mandy Morgan and Leah Pinkett at eight-thirty outside the rec centre. You’ll like them. We’ve been friends since forever,” said Kerry.

“Do they ever come up to the lake?”

“Not in July. That’s why you’ve never met them. Mandy spends July in Europe, and Leah has to go to her dad’s in New York. You’ve always gone back to Springhills before August.”

It was true. This was the first August I’d spent at Grandma’s. I suddenly thought of Ambie. If I were back in Springhills, we’d be hanging out in her bedroom or going to see a movie at the mall. “What do you want to do until it’s time to get ready for the dance?” I asked.

“We could play tennis. We have a court out back.”

Anything beat sitting around missing Ambie. “That sounds great. I can see if the money my mother shelled out for lessons last summer was worth it.”

Kerry laughed. “I have to modestly say that I’ve had a few lessons myself.”

I should have taken that as a big hint and begged off lame. Instead, I survived two hours of Kerry cleaning the court with me as she pounded her serve past my racquet again and again. The few times that I managed to hit the ball back over the net, Kerry thumped it into the farthest corner of the court. She had me running back and forth like a rabbit at a shooting range. Just as I was thinking about collapsing into the asphalt and waiting for some paramedics to carry me off to emergency, Kerry’s mom called us for dinner. I would have kissed her if she’d been within reach.

Kerry bounded around the net, having barely broken into a sweat. “Wasn’t that fun! You have an interesting serve, Jen.”

“Do you think?” I panted.

“You’ll have to tell me how you get it to go so slow . . . and so high.”

I tried to smile good-naturedly as she giggled. “It’s all in the wrist,” I said.

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